


Die Gedanken sind frei

by adrenaLYNN1986



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrenaLYNN1986/pseuds/adrenaLYNN1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lauren and Bo meet in an pychiatric ward. <br/>This is no light reading and containts violence, bad language and political remarks. <br/>I have no intention to hurt anybodies feelings or political mindset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Die Gedanken sind frei

Chapter 1

♪  
Die Gedanken sind frei, wer kann sie erraten,  
(Thoughts are free, who can guess them?)  
♪  
♪  
Sie fliegen vorbei wie nächtliche Schatten.  
(They fly by like nocturnal shadows.)  
♪  
♪  
Kein Mensch kann sie wissen, kein Jäger erschießen  
(No man can know them, no hunter can shoot them)  
♪  
♪  
mit Pulver und Blei: Die Gedanken sind frei!  
(with powder and lead: Thoughts are free!)  
♪

 

(Lauren)  
It was gone, the fast tapping of footsteps, lost somewhere in the empty stairway, but the echo remained steady in her mind and didn't slow down.

1.Etage; was written on the wall. 

She climbed the stairs, two at a time. The phone call she had received earlier made her unsure of what she would be in for upon arrival at her destination. 

Being on call sometimes meant to react fast. Today's' shift was a rather quiet one and so she headed to the on-call-room in the basement to get some discharge letters done. She was absorbed in her work that when her phone vibrated on her belt and the basic ringtone went off she got up with a start.

The receptionist put the police officer straight through to her phone. The information she got wasn't enlightening. That happened when some rookie thought they would rule the world and were too self-absorbed to offer much help. In some cases the officers left without the reassurance that the patient even arrived at the secure unit. She had heard phrases like 'We're in the hospital, now you are the one responsible' or 'My job here is done'. 

This time wasn't any different. About half an hour later she got informed that the police was in the building and that they handed over the patient to the nurses of the secure unit. They said something about some homeless female sleeping at the river near by who tried to run away when the local police on patrol got closer. She was rambling weird phrases the constables couldn't figure out. 'Maybe drugs were involved', was the most of information Lauren had obtained of the men in blue. 

The nearer she got the more she could hear people shout. She could make out a deep and demanding voice of a man yelling to stop struggling mixed up with screaming of a female one to shut the fuck up and leave her alone. 

It was almost eight in the evening and she was the one responsible for four psychiatric units, three with open doors and one secure unit, the latter was the one she was heading to. 

It was her eighth year in the small clinic on the outskirts of town. At first, she had been a member of an exchange program. It was meant to be for one year. An exchange of knowledge about different types of treatment of mental illness and to develop new standards for inpatient wards. 

She could remember the feeling of writing her letter of application. A mix of adventure and the hope of something new, something better. The urge to move was getting stronger with every day she woke up to the view of the life she once used to love. She wanted to get away of that daily routine of sleep, eat, work and to do something bigger than that. Something more important. Her job at the hospital was a bore. She was more occupied with the administration behind the scene and than to actually work at the patient herself. 

After the last member of her family, her uncle, had died all of the families’ property went into the bills he left unpaid. He had been a reformed alcoholic with the addiction to gambling. It wasn't a surprise when the police called, on that cloudless and rather warm night in early march to inform her of his death. They told her that he was found next to a dozen empty bottles of various booze. She knew he had been drinking for several months again. She couldn't blame him. He lost his brother and sister in law, her farther and mother, in a car accident two years back. Her father had been his fixing point. The only constant left in his life. They had been foster children and had never known who their parents were or why they were left behind. Though she never felt close to her fathers' brother, she hadn't wished for him to leave like this. It hadn't been easy for her either. The only thing that kept her sane was her work. The more the better. At this time it was a blessing that she hadn't had to face the patient in person. 

The only thing she could save from the claws of the Canadian judiciary was a piece of land with a small, old, ruinous house on it near Toronto. 

Her last relationship broke apart when her former lover started to realize that there was no heritage to snaffle. The money a doctor in her position received wasn't as much as that magpie she shared more than just her bed with, hoped for. No Porsche, no finca in the south pacific, no shopping trips to Paris. So she was left behind. Again.

With no one left to rely on she decided to give it a try. The house had been sold at a bargain price and with the letter of confirmation of the head of department in hand, she packed the last of her belongings and got on the plain. 

She had been to Germany before, twice actually. Her grandmothers' family had lived there once. They had settled down from Poland after World War one. Her grandmothers' father had worked in coal mines as a guest-worker. When the years had gone by and more and more people got unemployed or were afraid to loose their jobs, time was getting worse. Anti-foreign paroles had been sprayed on the walls of their house. The news were loaded with supporter of National Socialists. A party called NSDAP was born to infect the mind of former friends and co-workers with a deadly venom.

Her family had been lucky though. They had stocked away enough money to move again. Destination Canada. In a small cafe in Toronto her grandmother found the love of her life and a couple of years later her mother was born. Not everything had been bad these days.

As a child she had loved to listen to her grandmothers' stories of their life back then. She had learned some German words, some Polish, too, and was eager to know more about her roots.

When Lauren grew older, her grandmother invited her to visit the country she grew up in. That was the first time she had been there. It was strange at first. The feeling to stand on the ground of a country with a history that had such an influence on the life's' of her family and millions of others, too.

Lauren wouldn't have thought that she could fall in love so easily though. It was beautiful. The landscape hadn't been like what she imagined it to be. She could remember when she was standing on a mountain, pithead stocks actually, looking down on the scenery that was laying in front of her. She could see dark green woods next to refineries, shaft towers which arose out of the black ground framed in the juicy light green color of grassland and in between all of that small red brick-stone rows. The former homes of overseers and colliery workers. Her grandmother had been giving her the grand tour. The house her grandmother had been living in, was now replaced by a supermarket.

The second time in Germany wasn't as epic as the first. Although Lauren felt the connection it wasn't the same at all. Her grandmother had died shortly after their vacation. Cancer in advanced stage. It had been only a matter of time. This second visit had been some kind of trying to get closer to her one last time on her first anniversary of death. She had always been a cheerful woman. Even after her grandpas death. The work in a coalmine got along with a heavy price sometimes. Silicosis had been diagnosed a few years after their migration to Canada and he never got the chance to hold his first and only child in his arms. He died a few days before her mother saw the light of day. 

The city she now moved to was located in the area which was named after the river it was built around. She rented a small apartment in the suburb of the biggest city in the locality. At first it was a bit of a life task to learn the language and to manage the daily routine in a foreign country as though to conform to the usual practice. But she was a fast learner, always had been. 

The first year went by fast. She got herself head over heels into her work. With the little time left she explored her neighborhood. Although the area was undulating she did a lot of cycling. Her mountain bike was always by her side. It was the best alternative to get from A to B because of the old train path that had been converted into public footpath and cycle route. It was called Route of industrial heritage. 

She didn't have a lot of time to make new friends, but she wasn't trying to and had never felt more at ease until now. There were dozen of little theaters, cinemas and museums to enjoy oneself when she wasn't at work or doing some research at home.

Every morning she went to this small bakery down the street and had breakfast. She had never seen such a large assortment of bread. Grain bread in all kind of combinations, black bread, pumpernickel, white bread, sweet bread with and without raisin and bread bun with nearly the same amount of selection.

She loved her work in the small psychiatric hospital. After several meetings with the head of department of said hospital and closing negotiations with her former employer she stayed. Last week she acquired citizenship and was waiting for the reply. She wanted to take the exam to become the title consultant psychiatrist.

Ever since her residency she was amazed of what the mind was capable of. That a person who suffered through anything could shift into a state of catatonia or come up with psychotic experiences as like hallucinations. Anything in need to find a way to deal with their life crisis. There was so much uncharted ground to study. The work with psychiatric clients was more intense and she could also learn so much about herself and her way to handle life of her own. 

Some days were less marvelous. People who didn’t want to stay of one’s own accord but couldn’t leave without harming themselves or others around had to be kept on the secure unit. That was exactly where she was sent for now. 

She reached the second floor and opened the French door to the hallway of the elevators. The scene she saw in front of her was hectic. Three men tried their best to deflate a screaming and struggling woman. She was pressed face first flat against the wall with one of the three men at her back, pinning her arms over her head. The other two tried to get a hold of her legs. 

Lauren knew what it felt like to be in this situation. She had to attend a training of how to deescalate a tense situation like this one. Everybody should experience how it would feel like to be forced to do something they didn't want to or to loose the opportunity of making their own choices. It was one of the worst feelings she ever had to undergo. She had been fastened on a bed with both her hands and feet. One belt was secured around her shoulders, down her torso and clamped between her legs. It was horrible, not to be able to turn around on ones side or to even scratch ones nose. 

The woman was crying hard. Thankfully it was Saturday and most of the patients of the station next to the secure unit were at home to test their stress level over the weekend, so there was almost no one in sight to gawk.

“No, please. Let me go. I’ll do anything. Please. Just let me go. I won't hurt anyone. Please.”

One of the male nurses got a grip on the woman's’ ankle and carried her off of her feet. She was now lying on the hard flagged floor of the hallway. One male nurse at her feet, the other two were pushing her shoulders down, pinning her to the ground. She tried desperately to bite the strawberry blonde mans’ hand on the right side of her head, without any luck.

“Get the hell off of me, you bastards. Ouch… You're hurting me here. Go away!”

“Bitte beruhigen Sie sich. Dr. Lewis wird gleich da sein. “

One man tried to sooth the brunette lying underneath his strong arms. A frown on her face she turned her head to look at the black haired man at her left shoulder.

“What?... I don’t understand! I don’t speak Nazi!”

She spat out in frustration. The man at her feet looked up. His grip tightened when the woman tried to kick. His dirty blond dreadlocks tied back into a ponytail. 

“Nazi, nett.”

The man at her left shoulder pushed her down even harder.

“Lass stecken, Sascha.”

The male nurse at her feed tried to sooth the black haired man.

“Miss, my colleague said that Dr. Lewis will be here in no time and then you can talk to her. But please, lady, calm down. We don’t want to fight you. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

His voice was gentle and his soft gaze relaxed the brunette.   
The loud crack of a door closing brought the attention to the blonde woman coming around the corner of the elevator. 

“Was ist hier los? Warum liegt diese Frau auf dem Boden?”

Her thick Canadian accent was the only thing she couldn't get rid of. A permanent reminder of where she truly came from and what she'd so desperately wanted to leave behind.  
The black haired man looked up. 

“Ah Lauren, endlich. Diese Dame spricht nur englisch und sie will nicht freiwillig mit uns…“

"What??? I don’t understand one word you’re saying. You must learn to listen more carefully, buddy, because I already told you, but I will repeat it for you, Doofus: I don’t speak German. Didn’t your mother teach you manners like to not speak in a language the other party doesn’t understand? Stop that. Is this the doctor?”

The brunette was struggling once again, breathing heavier with every punch and kick. 

“Miss? My name is Dr. Lauren Lewis. I am the psychiatrist in charge. I’d like to talk to you but first I need you to calm down and I would prefer my office for that talk, if that is okay with you?”

Lauren was kneeling down to get on eye level. The brunette stopped fighting, staring back at her, eyes puffed, mascara smeared on her cheeks. Tears were rolling down her face. 

“Dr. Lewis? Please tell those 800-pound gorillas to let me loose. I won’t run, I swear.”

Her voice cracked on some parts and her lips trembled. Lauren exchanged glances with the three men. 

“If they did, would you come with me into the secure unit to talk to me in my office without further fighting?"

The woman nodded eagerly. Lauren stood up gesturing for the nurses to release the former combatant. The woman was now sitting on the same spot, rubbing her wrists. She looked up at a hand that was stretched out for her to take. She hesitantly took the offer and seemed surprised of the firm grip and the strong pull to help her stand up. Back in the vertical line still holding hands Lauren smiled slightly at the woman in front of her. She was almost her height and her physical appearance left the blonde doctor to assume the brunette had to work out. That would explain the hassle the three men had to keep her in place. Her clothes were somewhat out of place because of the wrestling before. She wore black leather pants and boots, her charcoal V-neck shirt uncovered her right shoulder. Her long brown hair was a bit tousled but hung loosely around her shoulders, small curls at the end. A silver pendant dangled down on a necklace up to her cleavage.

“So, I told you my name, would you tell me yours as well?”

Shaking the other woman's’ hand carefully with a hint of mistrust in her eyes, the brunette took a deep breath.

“Dennis. My name is Bo Dennis.”

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Die Gedanken sind frei  
> Topic: Craving for Liberty and Independence in times of political oppression  
> Traditional German Folk-song ~1842  
> Hoffmann von Fallersleben and Ernst Richter  
> If you like to hear a version of that song, you can find it on youtube. Although it's a commercial of GMX, but I love it!   
> I also think this song fits perfectly with the subject of a psychiatric ward.


End file.
